


Zerachiel

by Polyhexian



Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [41]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Gen, Humanformers, POV Third Person, child death implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian
Summary: Brainstorm's mom shows the boys some scrapbooks.
Relationships: Chromedome/Rewind (Transformers)
Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859230
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	Zerachiel

"Please," Brainstorm's once-and-former foster mother sniffled, gesturing to the couch in her tiny living room, "Make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink? Um, coffee?"

"No, thank you," said Rewind, watching Brainstorm as he looked around the room, eyes more alive than they'd been in weeks. 

"Alright, um, just a moment, I need to grab something from the loft."

"Let me give you a hand," said Chromedome, "Rewind, can you-?"

"I've got him," Rewind answered, putting a hand on Brainstorm's lower back to lead him gently to the couch. Chromedome followed Mrs. Sol up the stairs into the loft, a dim little attic room in the apartment that was full of dust covered tubs.

"It's just under this one," she grunted, picking up a bin and setting it aside on the floor. Chromedome picked up the tub she'd indicated. She stood up, looking tired and then paused, eyes on him. "Is he… alright?" she asked, her voice soft and anxious. 

Chromedome shifted in thought. "He… he has good coping skills. He's usually not like this."

She bit her lip and nodded, looking away. "Right. Thank you." 

Chromedome followed her down the stairs and set the bin down beside the coffee table. Mrs. Sol opened the top and dragged it over toward the couch, sitting down beside Brainstorm.

"I actually saved all of your things," she said, voice still hoarse but clearly trying to brighten, "Both of yours. They're upstairs if you want them, but- I know they're old. But I saved them anyway." She pulled out a scrapbook from the top of the inside of the bin, full of scrapbooks, picture frames, folders full of report cards. "This is the last one I made." 

She flipped it open to the first page, a spread of pretty paper and stickers and pictures of a tiny Brainstorm with Quark, blowing out thirteen birthday candles on a cake shaped like saturn. 

"This was the last birthday we got to celebrate together," she said fondly, brushing her fingers over the pictures behind the plastic cover, "Do you remember?"

Brainstorm nodded, and then hesitated, leaning to look closer. "It was chocolate."

"Yes!" Mrs. Sol beamed, "From a box, but you liked it."

"I did," Brainstorm said softly.

"You were so tiny!" Chromedome bubbled, on Mrs. Sol's other side, "You must have had a late growth spurt, huh?"

"Yeah, at like sixteen," Brainstorm mumbled distractedly, "I was short until then."

"You were cute," Chromedome smiled, and looked back down when Mrs. Sol turned the page to see him ripping open a blue-and-yellow wrapped package, and then holding some kind of tube on a block. Both boys were howling in excitement. "What is that?" 

"A Tesla coil," Brainstorm answered.

"It's still upstairs," she reminded him, "You can have it back, if you want."

Brainstorm blinked slowly, and then touched the photo. "I would like that."

"I've never seen pictures of you as a kid before," said Chromedome, as she turned the page again to reveal prim school pictures, Brainstorm with his hair loose, shorter than Chromedome had ever seen it.

"I don't have any," Brainstorm explained.

"None?" his foster mother asked. Brainstorm shook his head. She pulled the page out of the plastic sleeve and peeled Brainstorm's school photo off of it and held it out to him. "I have others."

Brainstorm accepted it with both hands, like it was something precious, holding the wallet sized photo in his hands, almost confused. 

"Hang on," she said, handing Chromedome the scrapbook and leaning into the tub and moving things around to retrieve a folder. She sat back up and laid it in her lap and then opened it and flipped through a few papers before she stopped. "Ah! Here it is. Look at this," she said, holding up an old photo of an infant in a fireman's arms, "It's you."

"That's me?" Brainstorm straightened up, looking genuinely surprised. She handed him the picture.

"That's the only one I have," she said, apologetically, "But that's you as a little baby." She glanced up at Rewind beside him, looking at the photo, "He was already a few days old when they found him. This is the first photo they took."

"Found him?" Chromedome repeated. "Found you?" He glanced back at Brainstorm who didn't move his eyes from the picture and shrugged.

"Safe surrender," he said, simply, "Dropped off in front of the firehouse. Station 113." 

"Oh," said Chromedome.

"You were cute," said Rewind, putting an arm around his shoulders, "Look how fluffy your hair was."

"Hey," Chromedome interjected, "What do you mean was? He's still cute."

Chromedome was delighted to see Brainstorm crack a weak smile as he folded the pictures against his chest and glanced over at him. Chromedome smiled back. 

Mrs. Sol retrieved the scrapbook from Chromedome and pulled it back into her lap, flipping past the school photos to the next page. Quark and Brainstorm wore tiny lab coats and safety goggles, standing in front of a counter and a myriad of glasses full of water and strips of metal.

"You were making batteries," she laughed.

"From zinc and salt water…" Brainstorm mumbled. She flipped the page again, showing pictures of the boys at a theme park, and then another of them at a museum, and then another, and another. Brainstorm stared, fascinated as a woman he'd once called mother told embarrassing childhood stories about him and his short-lived brother, though he said very little.

Eventually she flipped to a blank page, though she hadn't reached the end of the book. She lingered on it a moment in silence, before she spoke again, her voice pained. "I stopped adding pages after… after everything happened. I only liked highlighting the happy memories, and…"

"I know," Brainstorm said quietly.

She stated only a moment more at the blank page before she shut the book and set it aside, grabbing another from the bin. "Oh! This one is from when I first picked you up. Do you remember? You were so shy." 

"I was the youngest kid at my last home," Brainstorm commented, "I was quiet then."

"I can't imagine you quiet," Chromedome quipped.

"I was," Brainstorm shrugged, "I had a lot of different phases. When I was fifteen I was the angry kid. Punched holes in the drywall."

"You?!" Chromedome balked, "I've known you since you were eighteen and you've always been so- I mean, I can't even imagine it."

"As fast as I changed hands I changed personas, I think," Brainstorm murmured, flipping the page himself, "Never quite knew which one was real." 

Chromedome and Rewind exchanged a quick worried glance, but didn't otherwise comment on the statement. 

"So," Mrs. Sol asked, also letting it go, "Roommates, hm?"

"Oh, yeah," said Chromedome, "Me and Storm got paired up in student housing when we were eighteen. We roomed together for seven years."

"Seven!" she gasped, smiling, "Practically common law. I'm so glad you got along." 

"He was a great roommate," Chromedome said, glancing at Brainstorm, but he was flipping through the scrapbook, not paying Chromedome any mind, "He always made sure to keep an eye on me and saved my butt his fair share of times."

"I met Domey after he left grad school," interjected Rewind, "The next morning Stormy practically broke down my door looking for him."

"He just walked in," Chromedome laughed, "He didn't practically break down the door."

"It felt like it!" Rewind insisted, "It was very dramatic! _You_ are not a reliable witness, you were sick at the time."

"You were missing," Brainstorm added, "I didn't know what had happened to you. I thought you were gone."

Chromedome was quiet, glancing guiltily at the floor, kneading his hands in fists at his sides.

"Well, I'm glad you practically broke into my house," Rewind said, bravely ignoring the awkwardness of the situation and forging ahead, "I wouldn't have made one of my best friends if you hadn't." 

They stayed another few hours, looking at pictures and old homework assignments, report cards and drawings, and when they were getting ready to leave Chromedome helped Mrs. Sol dig the Tesla coil out of storage in the loft along with the yellow briefcase she'd held at the funeral. Brainstorm put the photos she'd given him inside and hugged it against his chest like a safety blanket, idly flipping the locking tabs as Rewind and Chromedome exchanged phone numbers with his mother. The woman stopped Chromedome as the boys began to head to the car, hoping to finish the drive home before it got too dark. 

"Thank you," she told him, her voice strained, "For taking care of him."

"He's done plenty for me," Chromedome told her, "I owe him more than I can repay."

"Thank you for caring about him, then," she amended.

Chromedome softened. "Of course."


End file.
